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The Boy Who Lived becomes The Boy With More Books Than Hermione in this spectacular collaboration between JK Rowling’s publisher Bloomsbury and the British Library (calling in multiple favours from the British Museum and Wellcome Collection, among others).

It looks an absolute treat, lined with atmospheric book wallpaper and computerised exhibits letting you brew up potions that explode if you get the ingredients wrong, locate the constellations that inspired Potter character names, have your future told, and listen to extracts from the audiobooks. But put the interactivity away for two hours and what is left is a delightful look at the magic that inspired the Potter world, divided into exhibits themed around Hogwarts school lessons.

The real-life counterparts to Rowling’s charismatic wizards are just as interesting as those in her books. There are shades of Gilderoy Lockhart in John Gerarde, who pinched most of his 1800 illustrations for his 1597 tome Herball, a general history of plants, from a German book published six years before, without credit. Olga Hunt, a 20th century witch who used the broomstick now hanging from the Charms exhibit “to leap around Dartmoor in a Full Moon alarming everyone she met”, sounds straight out of Rowling’s imagination, as does Smelly Nelly, from Paignton, who was apparently overly keen on scent. “To be out with a full moon, Smelly Nelly and her crystal was quite an experience,” one witness reports.

Spells from around the world and the ages put on a pretty serious display of humans’ millennia-strong credulousness. An invisibility charm, traded by magic students with their own twists, apparently originated from Solomon who died in 931 BC – although how successful it was goes unsaid, amazingly enough. Also included is a page from a 4th century Greek magic handbook showing how to prepare a magic ring, and an 18th century Ethiopian incantation for turning someone into a lion, python or eagle depending on exactly where you tie a silk scarf. There’s even an early mention of “abracadabra” and how to use it – it turns out that the 13th century had a lot of time on its hands, and a very openminded attitude to treating the flu.

For every bit of needless gloss (the gold filigree case for a 17th century bezoar; the apothecary’s “unicorn” sign – really a narwhal tusk – to show they could source rare things) a magical fact shines through. Elizabeth Blackwell’s 1749 A Curious Herbal was successful enough to free her husband from debtor’s prison. One of Bald’s discoveries in his 10th century Leechbook was found to combat the MRSA virus. And Maria Sibylla Merian, the first woman to lead a scientific expedition in roughly 1700, discovered the bird-eating spider; an arachnid so hideous that men refused to believe its existence when they saw her drawings. No wonder Rowling came up with Aragog.

The Ripley Scroll, a 16th century collection of writings by the alchemist George RipleyCredit:
Niklas Halle'n

Aspiring writers will find much comfort in the exhibits showing how Rowling came to be published; including extracts from slightly dodgy earlier drafts, and notes planning out her world – Harry might have been sorted into his school house by ghost, before she chose the Sorting Hat. The gorgeously elaborate Ripley scroll, six metres of 16th century spells and illustrations for making your own Philosopher’s Stone and featured here in a lovely spin-off about alchemy, has such crushingly bad rhymes that you can see how it might have inspired Rowling’s less-brilliant wizards.

Older readers may notice some gaps. It would have been nice to have contributions from Potter illustrators other than Jim Kay, who does the current illustrated special editions. A nod to the unknown redhead wizard who featured on the first Philosopher’s Stone cover would be lovely - however embarrassing this was to Bloomsbury, it’s part of Potter lore. Still, there’s a treat from Rowling, who provides several cartoons she did early on in her writing “so I could see the characters I was carrying everywhere in my mind”. They are charming, as is seeing that Potter’s friend Dean Thomas was originally going to be called Gary.

An illustration of Fawkes, the phoenix pet of Albus DumbledoreCredit:
Niklas Halle'n

The later exhibits feel a bit less rounded compared to the exhaustive earlier ones. Perhaps the curators ran out of steam, as visitors may well do. There’s a lot of detail to take in, and by the time you’ve reached the final three lessons, you rather wish they’d themed one of the rooms around lunch.

But there is plenty here to keep Potter fans spellbound, although small ones might get a bit fidgety. And I’m dying to pay a visit to the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic in Cornwall which lent some of the more offbeat exhibits – Olga Hunt’s broomstick and I may be due a date on Dartmoor.